


I Run To You

by ThatThereTeague



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Sports, Alternative Universe - University Athletics, M/M, POV Jim Moriarty, Sheriarty - Freeform, Socially Awkward Jim, Teen Years, jimlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7884640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatThereTeague/pseuds/ThatThereTeague
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>University Athletics AU </p><p>Jim Moriarty has just started his first year at Dukesbrook University and is already feeling like an outcast among his fellow students. Anxious to make friends, he joins the university athletics club where he meets second year Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September Pt. 1

Jim let out a small sigh as he dumped the last box of his belongings on the bed. The university halls of residence weren't exactly the epitome of student luxury the website had described. The room was barely large enough for the cheap Ikea desk and single bed that made the floor look like a more welcoming sleeping arrangement. The walls were a particularly ugly shade of pale pink that clashed horribly with the threadbare green carpet underfoot. 'Stylish and comfortable' Jim muttered sarcastically, mimicking the suspiciously cheery student rep who had handed him his keys earlier that afternoon.

Ripping the tape off the nearest cardboard box Jim started to carefully stack his new mathematics textbooks on the shelf above the desk. He had meticulously studied the recommended reading list weeks prior, anxious to make sure he was totally prepared for the academic year ahead. Jim had always been gifted at mathematics, completing his A Levels in the subject a year before his high school cohort. Being accepted to undertake a degree in pure mathematics at the prestigious Dukesbrook university was a surprise to neither himself or indeed his parents, who barely raised their eyes from the morning paper when he told them the news.

However the rest of the unpacking would have to wait as his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of movement outside.

Entering the communal kitchen and living space that divided the two bedrooms in the block, Jim was met by the sight of what would appear to be his new flatmate frustratedly flicking the switch on the kettle with increasing vigour.

'I think it's broken. I tried earlier with no success' offered Jim, still lingering by the doorway.

The boy ceased his assault on the kitchen appliance and turned around at the sound of his voice. He was tall with tightly cropped sandy hair and evidence of an athletic physique beneath a tight khaki vest.

Jim stepped forward, reaching out his hand to introduce himself, 'Jim, Jim Moriarty. And I guess you're my new flatmate? Have you just arrived?'

The boy carefully looked him up and down as Jim internally cursed himself for babbling so much. How was he going to make any friends if he kept acting like such dork.

'Sebastian Moran' the other boy said gruffly, taking Jim's hand in a firm shake. There was a moment of awkward silence, neither sure where to go from here. First impressions are important, especially when meeting the person you're going to be living with for the next eight months.

'What are you studying?' Jim asked, breaking the conversation stalemate.

'Sports science' Sebastian replied shortly.

'Oh, that sounds interesting. I'm thinking of joining the athletics and cross country team. I was good at running in school but not sure if I'm quite up to university level, you know?' Sebastian just nodded, surveying Jim under his piercing blue eyes.

Jim started to feel slightly irritated. What was with this guy? 'I'm going to finish unpacking' he said cooly, tiring of trying to keep the conversation going further.

Moving the still sealed boxes to the little floor space available, Jim laid back on the bed and stared at the dusty lampshade that hung above him. Did his new flatmate think he was just a rambling fool? Would he be able to make any friends at university or would it just be a repeat of high school, hiding away in the library every lunchtime to avoid the bullying taunts of his peers.

He frowned at the ceiling. But of course they had all been merely idiots intimidated by his superior academic ability. Perhaps Sebastian was too. Perhaps that's why he seemed so aloof. And anyway, Jim scoffed to himself, why should he care about the opinions of some moron studying _sports science_. Wasn't that what all the students who didn't get the grades to study _real_ subjects chose to do? No, what Sebastian Moran thought of him did not matter in the slightest. Once classes started he would make new, better friends. Friends who were in the same league as him intellectually.

Somewhat comforted by this thought he turned his attention to the information pack that had been given to him by the overly enthusiastic rep earlier. Inside was a timetable for the university induction week. He had already highlighted the clubs and societies welcome event happening the following morning and had not been lying to Sebastian when he said he was interested in joining the athletics club.

Having few friends, running had been his only respite from studying in high school. He would get up early each morning and run for miles across the fields and countryside nearby his home. It was the only thing outside of mathematics that he was halfway decent at.

He lazily reached over the edge of the mattress and let the paper flutter down to join the boxes of his belongings still stacked on the floor. He would certainly make a better impression tomorrow at the athletics club, and who knows, maybe there might actually be somebody worth impressing there.

 


	2. September Pt. 2

An autumnal mist hung in the air as Jim made his way across campus the next morning. He had spent the previous evening trying to neatly arrange all his worldly possessions in his shoebox sized room without much success. When he eventually emerged to the kitchen to boil some water in the microwave Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. The broken kettle that had now been unceremoniously dumped in the bin was the only evidence that he had been there at all. 

The clubs and societies welcome event was being held in the student union, a ten minute walk from the halls of residence. Jim dug his hands into the pockets of his joggers as he strode across the neatly trimmed lawn still damp with morning dew. 

The union was relatively quiet when Jim arrived, though he expected many of his cohort were still sleeping off the affects last night's drinking. The handful of freshers that had made it were dotted around the various booths as second and third year members attempted to entice them into signing up to everything from badminton to American football. Across the room Jim spotted the tall figure of Sebastian Moran marching determinedly towards the ultimate frisbee club, who appeared to cower a little on his approach. 

The athletics club occupied a small booth towards the back of the room. When Jim arrived a boy in university branded running gear was nonchalantly leaning against a table of leaflets. 'Err, is this the athletics club?' 

The boy looked up. The banner above the booth displayed a snarling black dog alongside the words DUKESBROOK HOUNDS ATHLETIC CLUB in blood red lettering. He looked back to Jim, 'Well it doesn't say Dukesbrook Women's Institute up there'. 

Suddenly remembering himself, the boy straightened up slightly. 'I'm Greg, captain of the athletics club and very hungover' he said apologetically, running his fingers through his short dark hair. 'I just can't keep up with you freshers anymore. You all drink like you've got a death wish or something'. 

Jim hummed noncommittally in reply. This guy seemed like an even bigger ignoramus than Sebastian. 

'So' Greg clapped his hands together then winced in regret at the action immediately before beginning his spiel. 

'In the autumn and winter terms we mainly do cross-country, then in the spring and summer we switch to track. We meet four days in the week and then Sunday mornings for a long run. These are all mandatory training sessions. No excuses. Skivers will be subjected to cruel and unusual punishment in the form of one hundred burpees-'

'Burpees? What are Burpees?' Jim interrupted.

Greg laughed 'Believe me, you don't want to find out. So, do you want to join?' 

'How could I not after you've sold it so well.' Jim answered sarcastically as he took the clipboard and signing sheet from Greg.

'Maybe I should work on my pitch. You're the first fresher I've got to sign up all morning.' Greg mused to himself. 

'No idea why.' Jim retorted as he handed back the completed form. 

'Okay...' He squinted down at the clipboard, 'James. That's you all set. I'll send you an email with all of the information and see you on Wednesday morning for practice.'

'Wednesday, as in tomorrow?' 

'Yes. No excuses, remember? As captain of the team I run a tight ship.' Greg punctuated this last statement with a barely concealed yawn. 

'Evidently.' muttered Jim. 

Despite the seemingly incompetent team captain, walking out of the student union Jim felt strangely optimistic. This was the first official team he had ever joined and he was still hopeful that it would prove beneficial to expanding his currently non-existent social circle. If avoiding the crushing loneliness that he had felt since school meant putting up with the likes of Greg than so be it.


	3. September Pt. 3

5.30am. Jim groaned sleepily as his phone alarm rang out in the darkness. Swinging his feet over the side of the bed he rubbed his head groggily. The sun was still nowhere to be seen and he was already beginning to regret his decision to join the only club that met at the ungodly hour of 6.30am. 

He spent longer than he would like to admit debating what to wear. In the end he settled for skinny black jogging bottoms with a grey Nike hoodie. The black running shoes on his feet were also Nike; the latest releases, of course. He wanted to be taken seriously and looking the part was essential. 

Jim arrived at the university track for just after 6.20am. There were already a few other students milling around, rubbing their hands together for warmth in the brisk morning air. He spotted the other freshers standing a little way off from the main group, their nervous fidgeting and lack of Dukesbrook Hounds branded clothing making them stand out further. 

However his attention was quickly drawn to another figure also stood alone a little way from the group. The boy was tall with curly black hair that fell unruly over his forehead as he glanced down at his sport swatch. The black and red running gear that clung to his lean frame identified him as a second or third year student. Seeming to sense Jim's presence the boy looked up. As their eyes met Jim felt his cheeks flush under the others intense gaze.

'Fresh meat! Let's go!' Jim snapped his attention away at the sound of Greg's shouts. He could still feel the other boy studying him from afar. 

'Come on, I haven't got all day!' Jim jogged over to join the group of freshers now gathered around Greg, who seemed more awake at 6.30am than he had at 10am the previous day. He looked back but the other boy was no longer looking his way and had instead turned his attention to stretching out his surprisingly impressive calf muscles. 

Greg snapped his fingers impatiently. 'Am I boring you already, Moriarty?' 

Jim turned back sheepishly, hoping no one had noticed the source of his preoccupation. 'Not at all', he replied as coolly as he could muster. 

'Right, listen up!' Greg shouted, forcing a few bleary-eyed freshers to snap out of their half conscious state. 'I'm going to pair each of you up with one of our more senior runners so you can start getting to know the other members a bit, and more importantly to make sure you don't get lost. We don't want a repeat of what happened in 2012' he added ominously. 

The small group of freshers glanced at one another nervously still unsure as to whether they should actually take this guy seriously. 

After a short warm-up routine Greg started shouting out names as he assigned each in the group to a second or third year student. As the group got smaller and smaller Jim noticed in his peripheral vision that the curly-haired boy who had caught his attention earlier was still stood on his own and had gone back fiddling with his watch again.

'Holmes!' The boy looked up suddenly in response. 'You can go with Moriarty here', Greg smirked. 

Shit. Had Greg noticed him staring earlier, Jim wondered. The boy walked over to where he was standing, keeping his eyes fixed on Jim the entire time. His expression was difficult to judge. Whether he was pleased or not with this supposedly random selection was almost impossible to determine. 

Jim shook the boy's hand on his approach. 'Jim', he said by way of introduction. 

'Sherlock', the other replied. His voice was low in a way that sent shivers down Jim's spine. 

However they didn't have long to get acquainted before Greg started barking instructions again. 

'We're going to take a three mile route starting just at the main gates here and going out toward the back fields.' He waved his arm in a vague direction by way of illustration. 

'Freshers, stick with your partners. Don't let them out of your sight. Second and third years, make sure you give them a good workout. As soon as they catch up I want you to pick up the pace. If you lose a fresher it's fifty burpees, but if you're beat by a fresher it's one hundred.' A few of the senior members let out an audible groan.

'Okay. Ready? Let's go!' And with that Greg took off toward the athletics field gates leading the pack of runners that fell in behind him.   
Sherlock turned to Jim, 'Do try to keep up' he said condescendingly before taking off to join the others. 

Jim felt a hot anger rise through him as he started running. Keep up? Who the hell does he think he is? 

They were barely out of the gates and Jim had already decided there was no way in hell Sherlock Holmes was going to beat him today. He started increasing his speed until he was alongside the taller boy who looked around in surprise.

Jim gave Sherlock a sly grin. 'Do try to keep up' he cooed mockingly before picking up the speed once again leaving the other behind. Suicide pace.


End file.
